


Curls

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Fun, Hair, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 12:28:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: You like to play with Rowena's hair. Rowena is not amused.





	Curls

There were plenty of things Rowena didn't understand about you.

Like why you'd ever bothered giving her a chance when, back when you'd first met, she was the kind of heartless bitch psychopaths would have envied.

How come, out of millions of people, you'd managed to fall for the one who used to think of you as more of a pawn than a person, a young witch whose magic she could exploit if even the smallest need for it presented itself.

How you always managed to make her smile upon entering the room with nothing but your presence alone.

Why you insisted on hugging her so often, and always held on as if you hadn't seen her in weeks.

Why you kissed her nose and cheeks and the back of her head at random.

Why you booped her nose and laid your head on her shoulder when she least expected it, without a word of warning, and giggled at her reaction as if it was the most entertaining thing you'd ever seen.

Why you played with her fingers when you were bored, and sought attention just when she happened to be deep in some old, newly acquired grimoire, and called her the most ridiculous pet names even she, who thought Fergus and the Mega Coven were wonderful names, found more embarrassing than endearing.

And what, in all hell, it was about her hair that made it so bloody fascinating to you.

Rowena was minding her own business, staring at the bookshelf that seemed to go on for miles, filled to the brim with grimoires and other books of similar caliber (you had your own shelf. There was no way she was putting her precious human-flesh-bound encyclopedias of magic on the same display as your cheap, badly written paperbacks about vampires, or whichever creature it was you were into these days) when you suddenly walked up to her and started playing with the tips of her hair.

She ascribed it to boredom. It was a slow day. Rain was falling in buckets, accompanied by wind that howled and whined like a wild animal. The electricity was out, which meant your electronics were useless. Having no internet, and thus no means to entertain yourself, you had the bright idea to bother her.

Charles help her.

Your fingers tangled in the soft curls like fleshy pieces of thread. They moved among them, fingertips pressing into the silky tendrils, feeling them, taking them in as if you'd never touched them before.

In response, Rowena shot you one of her glares that sent even demons packing.

It had no effect on you. If anything, in only made you explore her hair more, up your game a notch. You were nothing if not adventurous.

Frustration growing, Rowena wanted to growl like a rabid dog, but she cleverly kept it in. It would do no good to throw a tantrum (Charles knew she threw enough of those) over something as miniscule as you playing with her hair. You had no ill intentions, no hidden agendas. You were simply bored.

She would have accepted that had there not been a look of absolute challenge on your face. A dare, a taunt open for the world to see made only more prominent after Rowena had gifted you with a glare.  _ What are you going to do about it? _ it said, wordless yet loud, practically screaming in her ear.

And really, what was she going to do about it? You weren't doing anything bad, aside from mildly annoying her (which, in Rowena's book, was an infraction worthy of death. Or at least it used to be for people who weren't you). She could scream at you. Threaten you. Call you very Scottish names you wouldn't understand. And what would that get her? More taunting, more mockery.

She settled for intensifying her glare.

You looked her straight in the eyes and, as if to say "watch me," wrapped a strand of her hair around your forefinger.

Rowena supposed it was her fault. She'd never given you reason to fear her. She never had to. Even back when she only knew her as a young witch who needed help with magic, she had no reason to treat you with anything other than pure professionalism. She'd never even been unkind; you'd never given her reason to be. You were a harmless girl, always genuine in your treatment of her. You never looked at her as if she were anything other than a person, a creature of flesh and blood and bone, no different from the rest. In your eyes, she wasn't a monster, wasn't a cold, heartless, wicked witch, and you'd treated her accordingly.

She'd spoiled you, Rowena thought with a touch of bitterness. She'd let you do what you pleased with her. Let you hug her whenever you wanted. Let you kiss her hands and cheeks and neck, and call her ridiculous pet names with no repercussions. She'd let her guard down around you and allowed you to get away with things she used to kill people for doing.

She'd gone soft.

Or, the rational part of her brain reasoned, she was overthinking this.

After all, it was just affection. It had taken Rowena a while to get used to it. After centuries of being on the lookout, of hiding behind protective walls she'd built around herself, it was a tad hard for her to take harmless play and displays of love as they were. There had to be hidden meanings behind them, the remnants of her high alert instincts screamed. There just had to!

But she knew there weren't. You loved her. That was all you'd ever done, from day one. Been kind to her. Respected her. Felt for her. Teasing her didn't mean you cared any less; if anything, it showed you cared more. And, despite her inner turmoil, Rowena enjoyed a few light laughs, even if they were at her expense.

However…

She'd spent two hours perfecting these curls this morning, damn it! She wouldn't let a bored, impudent little girl ruin her hard work.

You released her hair and giggled as it bounced around her shoulders in a happy little dance, then reached to touch it again.

Rowena grabbed your wrist, stopping you in place.

"Don't," she said curtly.

You pouted like a child, and damn, if it wasn't the cutest thing she'd seen in months. "But your hair's so bouncy."

"I spent two hours working on it this morning," she said. "I'll not have you ruin it!"

"I'm just playing with it," you said childishly.

"You're being a menace, is what you're doing," she retorted.

You sighed, exasperated. "Wena, please."

Ah, the cutesy nickname. That was  _ totally _ going to work.

"No," Rowena said in the tone of a teacher fed up with her student's mischief. One more infraction, and she'd consider threatening to call your parents. And possibly expell you.

"I'm bored," you whined.

"Go play on your phone."

"The battery's dead."

"That must be horrible for you," she deadpanned.

"It's hell," you agreed.

"Then go outside. Gaze at the sun. Play in the mud. Chase bees." Rowena shrugged. "Do whatever, just don't bother me."

Stifling a laugh, you said, "I wanna play with you!"

"I'm not a bloody toy!"

You blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. "Well, you're cute, you're tiny, and you love cuddles. You pretty much  _ are _ a toy."

She wasn't cute, she was a decent size, thank you very much, and she didn't  _ love _ cuddles — she merely liked them a lot more than she let on. She opened her mouth to say so, but decided against it. Best not to give you any more ammunition. Instead, she sighed, hard, and said, "You're impossible."

"You chose me," you reminded her.

"Aye," Rowena admitted. Credit where it was due. "I suppose this  _ is _ my fault."

Her hold on your hand loosened, and you pulled it free. You flashed a happy smile that made Rowena pull on one of her own. She couldn't help it; as annoying as you could be, seeing you happy made her heart swell up with warmth. Your smiles and laughs and joys, as bright and radiant as the sun, made everything worth it.

"Why don't I teach you a spell?" she offered.

You grinned like a child at Christmas. "Which one?"

"I know a rather fun one," Rowena said happily. "You'll love it!"

"Yes, please!" you beamed.

This could turn out to be an entertaining afternoon after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by my lovely friend OswinTheStrange.


End file.
